


A Rush and a Kiss

by Endangered_Slug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Stargate Universe
Genre: Accidental Marvel cameos, Anyelle, F/M, Fake Dating, Teacher / Student, rcij
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-25
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-11 04:43:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4421822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Endangered_Slug/pseuds/Endangered_Slug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gift for the amazing Shipperqueen93 for Rumbelle Christmas in July. Her prompts were: Rushbelle Student/ teacher fake dating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rush and a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I've never seen SGU before so this will be very, very wrong. I'm terribly sorry.

 

 

Dr. Rush sat at his desk with his face in his hands, massaging the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses with the tips of his fingers. The oncoming headache was just waiting to explode in full force against his eyeballs and only the thought of his next cigarette break in — he looked at the clock on the far wall — six and a half minutes kept it at bay.

Spread before him in a pattern only he could recognize were the budget projections for his upcoming field work, funding crucial for his work to continue and, so far, no where in sight. On top of them was an engraved invitation to to a Stark Industries gala, something he would normally chuck in the dustbin on any other day, but with his funding trickling away, he was getting desperate.

He picked it up by the corner between his thumb and forefinger, admiring the the holographic monogram, and flicked it back and forth, considering it. He could go to this thing. Conceivably, he would meet the people who had the means to fund his research. Possibly he wouldn’t piss them off too much, his people skills being somewhat lacking, but, then, so were Stark’s and he still had people following him. Granted being utterly, filthy, stinking rich helped. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be accused of being of being jealous.

He could do this, this networking thing his assistant was always talking about. He looked up at her, sitting at her own desk, brown hair up in a ponytail with curls that he had a hankering to bounce since she waltzed in that morning framing the sides of her face and her pert nose buried in his notes, transcribing them into something legible. He’d be lost without her, really. Belle French had been foisted on him through the university, a teacher’s assistant he hadn’t asked for or wanted, but she’d proven to be invaluable to his work and, he realized looking at her, to him personally. At least, she seemed to care about him, cheerfully bringing him food, making sure he slept reasonable hours — bullying him into it sometimes when he got too wrapped up in his work and stopping was inconceivable. Her sense of humor kept him sane and probably herself as well given how little personal time he allowed her. She’d been with him for five months now and he couldn’t imagine her not there any more. She was as essential as… as air. If he didn’t watch out he would find himself eyeball deep in...

He swallowed harshly, silently berating himself as he dropped his eyes to the wedding ring he still wore on his left hand. It had been years since Gloria had passed. Years since he’d mourned her and in all this time he’d never been tempted… he glanced up at Belle again, just a quick look, catching the swell of her cheek as she chewed on her pen cap before averting his eyes lest she catch him doing something he shouldn’t.

He smiled a bit, shaking his head at the way his thoughts were turning. She may be essential to his project, she may even be essential to him in a way, but he knew she wasn’t staying. She had her own research to do, her own project to complete for graduation and then, she would be off into the stars like a rocket.

Shame. He would probably miss her. Definitely miss her.

He looked back at the invitation, the RSVP number already memorized along with the handwritten personal note from Pepper Potts in her neat script.

“Tony would love to talk to you about the Stargate Project. Please come. Bring a date.”

The invitation said plus one and showing up solo would probably embarrass him in the end, not that he cared much, but he needed to make a good impression so that people would give him money so he could continue working.

He looked back at Belle, now tapping her pen against the desk in a rhythm he didn’t recognize.

Belle would help him with that, he realized. She was smart, personable, and… pretty. In the end, there was no one else he could consider. Even if he had been spoiled for choice he would pick her.

Aw, fuck it. The free booze alone would be worth it.

“Miss French,” he said, figuring he may as well ask. “Do you have a nice dress?”

She looked at him, those stunning blue eyes staring at him in confusion and her mouth gaping open slightly in her surprise. “How nice?” she asked suspiciously.

He glanced back down at the invite and frowned at it. “Something fancy?”

She leaned back, a teasing smile. “Sure. Don’t think it’ll look good on you though. Not really your color.”

He rolled his eyes at her, covering his face with his hands and scrubbing at his beard in frustration, heaving a heavy sigh. He dropped his hands and looked at her smirking face.

Oh, fuck. She was gorgeous.

He ignored the thumping of his guilty heart against his chest and flung the invite over landing it squarely on her desk. “Want to go to a party?”

Her mouth dropped, properly dropped this time, as she picked it up, examining the contents and the handwritten note before looking up at him with an excited smile. “Are you kidding me?”

He picked up the phone and dialed Ms. Potts’ number.

* * *

 

The gala was the typical glittering affair he’d seen on the news in between crises, with press and fans of the A listers in attendance cordoned off and screaming their heads off for no reason Rush could fathom. Flashbulbs popped off in his face like strobe lights in a discotheque, disorienting and dizzying. The whole thing was surreal. That he was even there was horrendous. Fortunately, he was unknown outside of scientific circles so he passed by the hoard of screaming animals with relative ease while Belle had been stopped twice to be photographed by paparazzi from some trashy tabloids.

He waited in irritation as she smiled gamely, turning her head and showing off her long legs through the slit in her dress with practiced ease. He’d brought her to be seen of course, seen and to help smooth things over with Stark. She was quick on her toes and smarter than anyone he’d ever met, but he would be damned if he was going to stand there watching while she preened in front of some paparazzi’s camera.

At last she broke free from them and bounced up with a wide smile on her face, a smile that made her light up from within and he silently begrudged the photographers the fact that they made her happy in ways that he couldn’t.

"Done being a circus monkey, French?" He asked gruffly.

"Don't be a bore, Dr. Rush," she said through her teeth, grinning at the people lining the steps of the Museum Stark had rented out for the night. "Try to smile and pretend you're happy to be here."

He made a face, disgusted already. “Not possible,” he grumbled under his breath as they reached the top of the stairs. Finally, they were inside where the party was in full swing already. It was boisterous, but nearly the migraine inducing gauntlet they’d just passed through outside.

“I did say pretend, didn’t I?” she said, turning to him now that they were out of the spotlight and flashes were no longer blinding them. “Wow, now I know why celebrities wear glasses all the time. I had no idea the red carpet was so… difficult,” she said, straightening his tie. Her lips were pursed in concentration, shiny and pink and utterly kissable.

She was wearing a pair of crazy heels bringing her up to almost his own height, but as he was no giant, that wasn’t saying much. Belle normally wore a pair of flats or work boots depending on where their research was taking them and she was short enough to fit under his chin. Which he didn’t know from experience, but he had eyes and a great sense of spatial relations so he figured that if he wanted to wrap his arms around her, she would fit perfectly.

“There,” she said, patting the tie softly with the pads of her finger tips. “Perfect. Even if you haven’t shaved,” she said with a smirk.

He snorted. “Doubtful.” Then, as an afterthought, “should I have shaven do you think?”

There was an unreadable look in her eyes as she gave him another once over, eyes lingering at his mouth. “I, uh… no. No, the beard is- the beard is fine.”

He nodded his head, fiddling with the cufflinks Belle had found in some drawer in his office. “Then shall we?” he asked.

Her smile was nearly as blinding as the photographers’ flashes. “Yes, Dr. Rush”

“You should probably call me Nick.” At her raised eyebrow he clarified, “You know, while you’re pretending to be my girlfriend. ”

“Right. Of course,” she said biting her lip as she looked away, scanning the room for a likely candidate to contribute to their budgetary needs.

Rush eyed the long column of her neck for a moment, briefly wondering what it might taste like if he should run his tongue up from her collarbone to the back of her ear. She smelled nice, some sort of floral perfume that tickled his nose, and he considered how the olfactory senses enhanced the taste buds and if that would affect anything should he lean over and—

“There!”’ she said, tugging on his arm, jolting him out of his fantasy.

Shit! He had no idea what had gotten into him in the past day. He’d never been so distracted in his life, not even when Gloria had—

Rush shook his head, then, grasping Belle’s hand, dragged her towards Pepper Potts determined on succeeding despite himself.

Ms. Potts was as charming and efficient as he’d heard and he would have wished she had been his assistant if not for Belle, who, to be honest, was too good to be anyone’s assistant.

Belle naturally had taken to Ms. Potts and they chatted over something Rush couldn’t keep track of and he was getting annoyed with everything. The party, the noise, the distraction from his work, it was all becoming too much for him and he was nearly ready to give it up as a lost cause and his hand was just reaching into his pocket to retrieve his notebook and pencil when Ms. Potts looked at him with a sweet smile and asked them to follow her to another room where, he presumed he would meet the famed Tony Stark himself.

To his surprise and disappointment, they were led to an empty office, but they were assured that Tony was only a few minutes away and that he very much wanted to speak to Nick. And before he could protest, the door was shut and they were alone.

Fucking finally.

Rush breathed a sigh of relief. The noise was muffled now and he could hear himself think again. he shook his head, trying to dispel the heavy drumbeat of the pop song that had been playing out in the main gallery, but it was no good. The thing was stuck, probably permanently.

“Well, that went a lot better than I expected,” Belle said, leaning against a desk.

“Not over yet. Still have convince Stark, don’t we?”

Belle smiled and shook her head. “If you think it’s Stark we need to talk to, then you’re more out of it than you think. Pepper’s the one that decides in the end.”

He looked up at her, sitting there in her diaphanous gown billowing about her hips like a golden cloud. The light in the office was low, only a sole canned light over the desk was on and it shone down on Belle like a spotlight. He swallowed harshly, looking away and crossing his arms over his chest, tucking his hands underneath his arms before he did something crazy, like kiss her. “How do you mean?”

“She’s the backbone of Stark Industries. Stark may be an innovator and a genius, but everything rests on her in the end.”

He felt a pull of jealousy hearing her speak of Stark with praise. Yes, the man was a genius, and yes, he was a brilliant innovator, but so was he. If he had Stark’s funds, he would be able to be just as… Fuck. He was fucked and he knew it and Belle probably knew it, too. She was giving him a small smile like she knew how fucked he was and she liked it...

“Nick,” she said softly, breaking him out of his spiral of self-loathing. “Come here.” She patted the desk next to her.  

That was unacceptable. He was her boss, sort of. He held a position of authority over her, definitely. Sitting that close to her would be wrong, not with these traitorous thoughts running rampant in his brain taking over everything until he couldn’t think of anything except for Belle.

“All roads lead to Belle,” he muttered under his breath.

She frowned, a curious look in her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing. It was… nothing.” He ran a hand through his hair, wildly glancing around the small room before landing back on her. “You look pretty. I don’t think I told you yet,” he said, knowing full well that he hadn’t told her. Knowing full well that watching her emerge from her squalid apartment building had taken his breath from his lungs until he couldn’t say a damn word so enraptured he’d been.

He wasn’t  going to sit next to her, not when she’d asked him to, so why was he standing practically in between her legs? He didn’t remember moving. Didn’t remember anything except the pull of her eyes, wide and blue and trusting and looking at him as if he mattered to her. He should pull away, move back and give her space, but he was a selfish creature. Always had been and as her pink tongue came out in a flick to lick her lips he nearly groaned at the sight of it.

“Miss French...” he asked, a silent plea on the tip of his tongue. He wanted her but he didn’t know how to ask. He shouldn’t ask. Asking would be taking the first step toward disaster.

“Belle,” she said leaning foward. “You’re supposed to be my boyfriend remember.”

“Am I?” he murmured, his face inches from hers.

“That’s what you told me,” she whispered, her lips flitting in an unsure, shy smile before it disappeared entirely as she looked down at her fidgeting hands. Then, clear as day, she looked up again, her blue eyes swimming with hope and they looked at him the way Gloria used to back before things turned to shit and he became a walking disaster. He knew that look because he had it on his own face whenever he thought about Belle.

“Belle,” he groaned, his mouth pressed against her, lips and tongues and teeth all clashing as her arms wrapped around him, clasping him tightly to her. The feel of her soft and silky against his hands, the scent of roses that permeated her skin, the sound of her voice low and throaty as she moaned into his mouth, it all sent him over the edge and he grabbed at her, hands roaming everywhere he could reach, mussing the delicate coiffure she’d constructed, flinging the pins he’d found and dragging his fingers through the curls as they fell.

He didn’t know how, but his hand the round swell of her ass and he pulled her against him, the feel of her — even though their layers of fabric — against the swell of his hard cock. She tugged on his hair sharply, moving against him in a way that made stars explode behind his eyelids.

He’d just started rucking up her skirt when the door burst open and party goers spilling in with a tumble.

One of them skidded to a halt and held up his hands, “Hey-o!”

Rush jerked away from Belle, stumbling in his haste to put some inches between them. She was breathing heavily, hair mussed, lipstick smeared and looking thoroughly debouched. He held out a shaking hand to her. “Fuck! I’m sorry, Belle, I—”

The newcomer chortled at them, his own date long abandoning him once she saw the room was occupied. “No matter, to be expected at one of Stark’s parties,” he slurred drunkenly.

Rush moved to shield Belle from the lout. As shameful as his actions have been there was no need for her to be humiliated by some intoxicate lout who could barely stand.

Belle poked her head around his shoulder. “We were only—”

“Yeah, I get that, little girl.”

The man swayed on his feet and Rush didn’t think it would take much to knock him on his ass. He started forward, but the touch of Belle’s  hand on his arm stayed him. He covered his with his own hand, entwining his fingers with hers.

“Belle’s not a little girl,” Rush blurted out. “She’s marvelous. Any man would be lucky to have them as their girlfriend. I am lucky to have her. Get the fuck out of here, you drunken sot before I knock some sense into you!”

He watched as the man, still nameless, but Rush never forgot a face and if he ever ran into him again he would make sure his fist was introduced to that ugly mouth.

Belle reached out and picked up a stray bobby pin that had caught on her dress. “This was not how I expected the night to go.”

Rush shook his head. “No, I wasn’t expecting any of this.” He ran a hand through his hair, turning away from her to look out the window. “Belle, I’m sorry. I never meant to let things get this far. I don’t know what happened, I only know that when I walked into that room tonight pretending you were my girlfriend… I just wished it were real.”

“What are you saying?” she whispered.

He turned around, staring at her. She was watching him, her face carefully kept blank, but there was a hopeful look in her eyes that helped him go on.

“I’m saying I want to make it real. I mean, people already think we’re together now. I want to make it happen.”

She gave a harsh laugh. “No one thinks we’re together, Nick.”

“Why do you say that? We were just caught with our tongues down each other’s throats for fuck’s sake—”

She tilted her head to the side in a helpless, timid gesture. “Nick… Dr. Rush, you’re still wearing your wedding ring.”

Rush looked down at his left hand, horrified. Shit. He’s fucked up again. Within a span of minutes his world had gone from sheer delight to absolute fucking shite.

She took a shuddering breath. “Look, I don’t know where your head is right now, but I care for you… a great deal. And I would like to explore that more because I think we might have a good thing going if you just tried.” She sniffed, two hitching breaths that cut him to the core. “But I can’t do that while you’re still thinking of her. I won’t be second best, Dr. Rush.”

She picked up her purse from where she dropped it and, straightening her dress, strode towards the door. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before she slipped out, closing the door behind her.

“I’m sorry, too, Belle,” he said after she’d left.


End file.
